Lost and Found
by hagiga
Summary: I'm late but it's a Sherlolly New Years fanfic. Because the idea of Sherlock and Molly hunting Moran together while Sherlock was gone for 3 years makes me tingle with fangirling hopless romantic joy.
1. Chapter 1

Among the several hundred shouting, laughing and drinking New-Yorkers gathered in Times Square to celebrate New-Year's Eve, no one paid much attention to the (supposed to be) dead British detective and a mousy and oddly lively pathologist, staggering behind him.

Sherlock was in a hurry to get away from the crowd. The last mission was solved, and now a new clue and another mystery has begun.

"We must get back to the hotel," he said loudly for Molly to hear among the roaring crowd, he raised a small piece of paper with the clue written on it "We have to find out what this means…"

He turned his head a bit and, realizing Molly was not clumsily running behind him, looked around, his head turning quickly, eyeing every person. _For god's sake Molly where have you gone now? _He looked at every girl. _5"6'? no she's too tall. Brown hair. Brown hair? No too curly. Too dark. _Finally, he spotted her.

"Molly!"

She looked at him, dark eyes gleaming, and smiled. She was too far to allow him to shout and entire sentence to her without losing his voice, so he motioned with his arms for her to follow him. She copied his movement, only motioning toward herself.

"Oh for the love of-" he whispered to himself and walked up to her.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Oh come on Sherlock, it's only 30 minutes until midnight, can we just stay until then?"

"Why?!"

"Well, how many times in my life time will I get the chance to be at the countdown in _New-York City _Sherlock?"

He rolled his eyes, _sentiment. _

"Molly, I need to solve this case!" he waved the note in the air in front of her.

"Oh come on," she snatched the note and opened it "I'm sure we can leave this until tomorrow you- you being mad genius and all-" and then she read the note.

Her mouth hung open and her body froze.

"Molly?" he bent down to look at her face "Molly?! What is it? What do you know?!" he grabbed her shoulders and shook them, causing her head to look up quickly.

"What is this? Where did you find this?" She asked on the verge of tears.

"It's a clue. I found a text in the phone that belonged to the last sniper we managed to catch. What do you know Molly!?"

She read the words again:

_When the glass slipper falls_

_The new kingdom will shatter_

"Midnight…" She mumbled.

Sherlock eyebrows knit, "Midnight? Tonight? How do you know from this clue?"

"The glass slippers, from Cinderella…"

"What-Ella?"

With a brief summary of the story Sherlock stared blankly down at the note.

"Amazing," a smirk formed on his lips "long gone but his game is still on, how passionate."

The last word he spoke sent shivers down her spine.

He spoke to herself "So we know the time, it'll be midnight 'when the glass slipper falls'. The 'new kingdom'? New York I guess." He chuckled "Oh this is exquisite!"

Molly rolled her eyes "Not good Sherlock, it's _not good_."

Sherlock grabbed her arm, leaned down and whispered to her "We have 25 minutes to save every single person you see around you, now-" he led her by her arm away from the crowd "… this is what we are going to do."


	2. Chapter 2

Molly sat quietly by the window overlooking Times Square, a computer in her lap, waiting for the signal.

She squinted her eyes, waiting for him.

And there it was, coming from somewhere from the opposite buildings. Three flickers of light aimed at her.

Her heart beat sped; she turned to the laptop quickly and clicked 'enter'.

Shots were heard, yelling and shouting, then a massive amount of lights and fireworks illuminated the night.

She looked outside, panting, the crowd was still there looking confused.

_Better than dead. _

She let go of a breath she was holding when someone finally spoke to a microphone, apologizing to the crowd about the, what they were all thankfully thinking were, just a few technical difficulties.


	3. Chapter 3

"Ten!"

The entire crowd began yelling. She was running among the people, looking around for the tall, dark haired figure.

"Nine!"

_Oh god what if something happened? _The thought hadn't occurred to her until now, he always survived! He can't just disappear. How would that feel? She suddenly understood John.

"Eight!"

_Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. What will I do? What if I find him dead? What if I find him bleeding to death! I can't send him to a hospital, they'll need identification! I can't watch him die!_

"Seven!"

_I'll have to go back home all by myself. _She imagined her flight back, on the plane, all alone. What would she do with his body? Can she take it back with her? How will she bury him? Will she just bury him in the middle of nowhere? Somewhere in rural part of the states, ditching him there like nothing? Who'd come to visit his grave?

"Six!"

Tears formed in her eyes. She never had the chance to prove herself to him. She was always so clumsy around him, she thought being with him while they were tracking down Moran will allow her to change his perspective. She'd be able to show him that she is smart. That she is clever. Now he'll just die, and she'll be all alone.

"Five!"

_Why? Why? WHY!? Why didn't I tell him I love him earlier?! Now it's too late! Now he'll die and I'll always be the mousy, useless little woman that couldn't be bold enough to just admit it. _So what if he denied her? So what if she confessed and he'd just rudely turn his back to her, insult her naïve little mind and waltz out of the room. He would have known, and she'd move on. But now it's all lost, now there is no hope.

"Four!"

Tears were flowing down her cheeks, hope slipping away from her in the form of small, salty drops of water. A few people stared, a cop asked if she was looking for someone, maybe a child. She waved him away and kept looking, losing confidence while losing sight to the tears in her eyes.

"Three!"

She spotted a tall man with dark curly hair. "Sherlock!" she yelled, even though instructed not to do so, for his safety. _Screw safety. It black and white; dead or alive. That's all that matters. _She grabbed his shoulder and turned the man around, only to find some brown eyed man with glasses. She apologized, turned, and kept sobbing.

"Two!"

She walked away from the crowd, holding her arms and crying into her scarf. She'd never find him, he's gone, all is lost. Sherlock Holmes is probably dead somewhere in a dark room inside one of the buildings at Times Square. What the hell can she do now?

"One! Happy New Year!"

Music began playing, couples began kissing, and confetti was thrown in the air.

Molly Hooper stood in a dirty sidewalk next to some cheap, stinky kiosk, and wept


	4. Chapter 4

The crowd began to disappear; people were going back to their homes. She stopped searching for him, although she was a tempted to look up from the ground and maybe find him, but her head was too heavy and too foggy to believe there was any chance he survived.

_When the crowd is all gone I'll have to look for his body, I'll have to look for Sherlock Holmes's dead body. I'll have to say goodbye. I'll have- I'll have to see Sherlock, The man I truly love,_

She bit her lip and sobbed,

_dea-_

"Molly?"

She thought the sound came from within her head.

Whatever force allowed he to raise her head, she was thankful for it.

A few more tears slipped out her eyes, down her cheeks and to her chin before her vision cleared.

When her eyes focused, she lost any ability to hear anything around her.

Sherlock Holmes stood across the road, confetti in his hair, bruises and cuts on his face and red eyes. For a moment she swore she saw a tear slip out of his right eye.

"Sherlock?" She whispered in disbelief.

He stepped forward, the sides of his lips turned upwards just the slightest.

She gasped, covering her mouth.

"Sherlock!" her voice broke and she sprinted forward into the road.

With a few step his long legs send him to her and they wrapped their arms around each other, meeting in the middle of the road.

She gasped and sobbed into the side of his face, whimpering his name and confessing she thought he was dead and was so terrified.

"I didn't know where you were, Sherlock…" She cried a bit more, tears smearing to his neck and clothes "I'm so happy you're alive!" She buried her face to his neck.

His arms were fixed around her, holding her close as his lips reached to the side of her head for a quick, comforting kiss like the one on Christmas so long ago.

"You did it Molly," He sighed "you did it."

He pulled back to look at her.

"I-" he smiled broadly, thinking of what to say "Thank you, Molly Hooper."

Their foreheads pressed together. She breathed in his smell, feeling safe again.

"Hey fella'!" A short men standing several meters away smiled at the pair, his friends and some girls grinning as they walked together "It may be 15 minutes after midnight, but c'mon it's never too late for a New Year's kiss, don't ya' think?" His friends cheered and nodded their heads.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the exaggerating friendliness and open-minds of these people, and Molly's face flushed red.

But within seconds the short men and his friends were cheering and whistling toward the spot where Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper stood and pressed each other's lips together for the first time.

If her mouth was not so occupied, Molly would have laughed with joy, knowing not only that merely minutes earlier she thought she'd have to return home with Sherlock's dead body.

Yet within a month they found themselves on a plane, fingers interlaced, on the way back home.


End file.
